


Comet

by jawnslulluby21



Category: Queen - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23318254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jawnslulluby21/pseuds/jawnslulluby21
Summary: An AU which finds a 15 year old Roger Taylor fighting for his life and the man and his friends who give him life.
Relationships: Adam Lambert/Original Character, Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Freddie Mercury
Kudos: 12
Collections: Queen Bohemian Rhapsody





	1. Dark and Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I could not get this out of my head. So here it is.

Roger had no idea where he was. Or what day it was. He was in limbo, in Purgatory, or more like hell. Slowly he pushed his legs straight out and leaned back against the bare wooden wall. His range of motion was very limited as his wrists and ankles were shackled with lightweight restraints held together by a chain coming out of the wooden wall. He could stand and walk a bit but he couldn’t do much more than that.  
How had he found himself here, in some house in some American city? He knew that answer. Roger closed his eyes and tried not to think about it now. He was headachey from not eating but knew from the past several days that he would get one meal and that meal wasn’t even enough to help him feel like he’d eaten anything. Yesterday it was a Lunchable and a small bottle of water and afterwards he was released to use the sparse bathroom, actually just a toilet and sink in a tiny unfinished wooden walled room.  
His captor was a large man, an American from his lack of accent in the few words he had grunted at Roger. Roger had not asked him anything; Roger doubted that the man would answer him anyways. So for now it was sit and wait. 

Downstairs in the old house set back from the busy streets of Seattle, the large man who had interacted with Roger was staring at a computer screen. His monetary transfer into the bank account of Roger’s stepfather had initiated so Glenn Hastings nodded to himself and pulled up his own financial sheet. The boy, at 15 and a Virgin, was worth a lot more than the 25,000 dollars his stepfather had sold him. Hastings couldn’t believe that the British dolt didn’t realize the boy’s value in the sex trade but that wasn’t his problem any longer. This Roger kid was also pretty with his long blonde hair and blue eyes. Yes indeed a real find! And he was docile. The kid hadn’t even tried to protest or ask what was going on. Hastings hoped that the boy would keep this up.  
For now, he needed some food. Hastings rose from the chair he had been perched on and shut his computer off. Grabbing his coat he was out the door not bothering to lock it.

Roger sighed and stood up, taking a walk as much as his restraints would let him. He could not look out the window on the far wall but the light it let in was really a godsend. Roger pulled a bit at the chain but it seemed to be anchored well into the wall. He tried to slip his wrists out of the shackles but that didn’t work either. He was in the restraints fairly secured.  
Roger then decided to try to figure out his situation. Two months earlier, his beloved Mom had passed away. She had been sick for a while— the cancer finally took her in a painful way—but before being hospitalized his Mom had found a shoulder and a kind guardian in Malcom Bryant. Malcom seemed to be the perfect companion. And for the duration of his Mom’s illness, he was. He was supportive of Roger too. Taking him to school and picking him up; attending his band’s little concerts; helping him with his homework. Those traits were just what seemed to come naturally and Roger grew to trust and care for him. He served as the father figure Roger had not had since his real father, Michael, had left them when Roger was 8.  
All of that care and sympathy had gone out the window once Winifred had passed. The day after her funeral, Malcolm had demanded that Roger pack a bag and his backpack because they had an appointment in America. When Roger stated he did not want to go Malcolm had turned into a demanding and angry man so Roger did as he was told and gathered his belongings wondering what was going on. He never had a chance to even phone his friends as Malcolm had taken his mobile away from him, leaving no way to get in touch with anyone.  
At the airport, through customs, Malcolm had turned into the grieving widower and caring stepfather. They had cleared customs at Sea Tac Airport without a problem but with plenty of sympathy. Once in the rental car, Malcolm drive with the aid of a GPS ignoring Roger’s questions. They had pulled into a long driveway up to a large rather worn house and Malcolm had pulled Roger out of the car. The only thing Roger had with him was his backpack; Malcolm didn’t bother with the other case. They had met the man who immediately took Roger upstairs and shackled him.  
How was he going to get out of here? And why exactly was he here? Roger continued to make small circles as he walked, thoughts jumbled and so many questions running through his head.

Hastings grabbed the Lunchable and the water from the fridge and eased up the stairs. The keys that he used to open the restraints and the door were on a ring attached to his jeans by a tab and they jingled noisily as he walked. He ruefully thought of the serial killer Jingles from AHS 84 and shook his head. That was crazy. He was just the middleman for the sex trade world; he had never killed anyone.  
Tonight, the stairs seemed to be steeper and he caught his breath as he neared the top. Damn. He needed to stop smoking. Hastings paused then shrugged and continued to walk towards where the kid was stashed. After the kid ate, Hastings would take him to the bathroom and then he’d have the rest of the night to watch porn.  
“What are ya doing up?” Hastings asked, surprised that the kid was standing and at the end of the tether. The kid, whose name was something that began with the letter R though Hastings didn’t remember it because he didn’t bother trying to learn the name, blushed and sat down on the floor obediently. “Pain in the ass.” Hastings muttered. He thrust the Lunchable and water at Roger who gratefully took them. “Hurry up now. I don’t have all day.”  
Roger nodded and gulped down the meager offering. He drank the water then put his trash into the paper bag that his captor had brought up.  
“Alright it’s bathroom time. Hold still while I unlock these.”  
“Can you tell me if my stepfather is coming back?” Roger asked. His voice was quite squeaky from disuse. His captor paused and looked at Roger with a smirk on his round face.  
“No he isn’t. Sold you.”  
“S...s...sold me?” Roger felt a stab of pain in his belly.  
“Yeah pretty cheap too. In a couple of days you will be on your way to China to please the Western men who prefer a blonde rather than a native.” Hastings moved away. “No funny stuff or I’ll club ya. Got it?”  
Roger was just frozen in place. China? Please men? What the fuck?  
“No no you have to ... you have to help me... he had no right to ... to sell me...” Now the tears were bright in his blue eyes.  
Hastings scoffed and shook his head. “Kid, I will make some good money on you. You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna let you walk after paying your stepfather the big bucks. Now I have some buyers coming and they are gonna take one look at you and I’ll have a bidding war. Now get your ass into that bathroom before I stop being nice!”  
Roger had no recourse but to scuttle over to the small facility and shut the door with a resounding slam. He looked around the room wildly trying to think of anything that would help him escape but there was nothing. Even the toilet paper did not have a roller. There was nothing he could take to fashion any type of weapon or springlock. All the thoughts raced through his head as he went to the bathroom then washed up a bit. Sold. Sex trade. Malcolm had made money off him. Buyers. Oh my God he was going to be raped over and over.  
Suddenly he bent over the toilet and threw up everything he had eaten. His stomach rebelled and he gasped between heaves until his stomach was empty.  
“What are ya doing in there?” Hastings opened the door only to see Roger hastily washing his flushed face. “Hurry up.”  
“Yeah ok I’m done.” Roger walked back to where the restraints were thinking how easy it could be to just take off and outrun his captor. Hastings seemed to sense Roger’s plan.  
“None of that. I’ll shoot your leg and let you suffer.”  
Roger stood docilely as Hastings put the cuffs on him then sat down with his back against the wall. His captor smirked then left the room, heavy footsteps sounding as he went downstairs.  
Roger day in the now silence. A sense of futility washed over him and he began to cry, his thin shoulders shaking as he sobbed.


	2. A Stroke Of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seems that Roger will get some help!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this will get better... please bear with me...

Roger woke with a start. He heard voices, male voices, coming from the direction of the stairs. Oh God no were the buyers here? Was he going to be sent to China today? His heart pounded and he stood up on wobbling legs. The voices and now footfalls were coming closer.  
Roger began to hyperventilate. If he had had anything in his system he would have wet himself but he was dehydrated from the vomiting bout he had had the night before. He pressed his small frame as tight to the wall as he could and tried to control his breathing.  
“He’s in here.”  
That was his captor’s voice.  
Roger closed his eyes willing himself not to faint.  
And then the door opened.  
Hastings led the way into the room, followed by three men of scrupulous character. They weren’t evil looking, just slightly unkept and feral and they were staring at Roger with otherworldly wolffish expressions.  
“Here he is, little Roger. As you can see he’s quite young,” Hastings paused and looked at the stats sheet in his hand. “Just 15.”  
“Turn around, boy, let me see that ass,” one of the men demanded.  
Roger hesitated.  
“Do it!” Hastings grabbed Roger’s arm in a vicelike grip and spun the boy around. And then to Roger’s total horror, thick fingers reached under the waistband of Roger’s undies and track pants and pulled them down to Roger’s knees.  
“Stop!” Roger yelled but Hastings pinned him hard so his face was directly against the wall.  
Probing fingers smoothed over the soft skin of Roger’s small buttocks and then one finger wiggled dangerously close to Roger’s opening.  
“Hey! Look and stroke but none of that. He’s intact. That’s all you need to know.”  
The touching stopped and Roger hurriedly pulled his clothes up.  
“Now let’s see his face.” that came from another one of the men.  
“Oh he’s pretty.” Hastings pulled Roger away from the wall and jerked him still.  
“Look at those eyes. So blue.” The tallest of the hideous trio brushed Roger’s fringe from his forehead.  
“You’re gonna start a bidding war, Hastings. He truly is one of a kind.”  
“Alright then show is over. Make your bids by email to me and we will see who wins!”  
Hastings started to usher them to the door of the room.  
“How long do we have?” One asked.  
“Until Thursday. That means 2 days. And it’s cash only.”  
With that they were gone.

Roger sank to the floor and covered his eyes. My God, this was just insane! Wasn’t it only a few months ago that he was living a normal life? And now he was up for bidding like a cow at auction. He told himself not to cry. He had to think. Think of a way out. Think of an escape! Just like in those movies he loved to watch where the kid figures out how to weasel out of the trap. But this wasn’t that kind of movie.  
Roger started to rock, thinking of anything he could do to get out of his situation.

It had been a long day. Roger alternately dozed and paced, all the while looking at the shadows lengthening as the sunlight waned through the window. He was hungry and scared and still without a plan. Roger shook his head and started to pray. He was not normally a religious person, but prayers couldn’t hurt. He clasped his hands in front of him, closed his eyes and began to whisper asking God for help of any kind.  
His litany was interrupted by the sounds of his captor’s approach on the stairs. Roger sighed and brushed the tears from his cheeks.

Hastings paused, one hand on the stair railing, one foot on the top step. His chest felt... full... for lack of a better word. But that passed and he continued on, carrying the cash cow’s meager meal. He would be glad when the kid was gone and he could stay downstairs figuring out what to spend with his money. And he was definitely gonna strike it rich with this one. The kid had garnered some solid cash possibilities!  
The kid was sitting down on the floor. His face was red and patchy indicating he had been crying. Hastings shook his head and walked over to loom in front of him. As he held out the bag, he started to say dinner is served but a rush of pain gripped his chest. He groaned and fell forward gasping for air, his damaged heart giving out to beat for nothing.  
Roger sat horrified as the big man fell directly on him, torso half on his legs and head near Roger’s right hand which was braced on the floor. His captor was gasping and gurgling then became very Still and a putrid smell filled the air.  
“Mister? Hey mister?” Roger tentatively shook one shoulder but there wasn’t any reaction. Roger scrambled away then as his captor fell the rest of the way on to the floor.  
What now? Roger stared at the man for a few minutes trying to get his head around a dead man laying at his feet. Should he try to do CPR? Roger had taken a class through Health Connections at his school but the man didn’t really deserve it did he?!  
Roger scrubbed at his eyes and took a deep breath. There were keys on his captor’s belt! Keys that he used every night when he unlocked Roger so he could eat. Swallowing his fear and distaste, Roger gingerly grasped the keyring with thumb and pointer finger. The keys were all on a big metal hoop that was attached somehow to the man’s trousers. Roger got on all fours and looked closely. He didn’t have his glasses with him and his eyesight wasn’t that good. Just as Roger began to unbutton the cloth that held the hoop, his captor jerked and groaned.  
Roger scrabbled back, gasping in fear. Was the man just feigning being unconscious or perhaps he had fainted!?! Roger waited a few minutes but there were no further movements or sounds from the big man. Again Roger knelt and this time he was successful in unbuttoning the fabric and releasing the key ring. He sat and selected the small silver key that his captor had used on his manacles and within seconds, Roger was a free man!  
With heart in his throat and pounding in his ears, the boy scrambled down the stairs pausing only when he reached the long hallway leading to the other part of the house. Was anyone else living there? Roger had no idea but he vowed to be as quiet as he could. He crept down the hall and peered around the corner. He saw what he assumed was the kitchen as there was a table and chairs in the middle of the room.  
Roger swallowed hard and took a deep breath then ran pell mell into the kitchen waving his arms and yelling. To his relief, there was nothing. No people. No animals. His captor must live alone.  
Roger opened the fridge and found a wrapped sub from Subway and a pack of cookies. He grabbed these then spied his backpack on the chair. With a feeling of joy he hadn’t felt in a long time, Roger grabbed the backpack and held it close. He then stuffed the food inside and zipped it back up.  
His captor’s laptop was still open on the table so Roger touched the screen but the password was needed.  
“Fuck that,” Roger muttered.  
On a mission now, Roger started going through drawers and cupboards to find money. He needed money to get the hell away from this house and this city and those men who wanted to buy him. All he found were some coins—Quarters and dimes mostly— but perhaps that would work for a bus. And after that, Roger didn’t know what he was going to do. How would he get back to the UK? He didn’t know anyone else in England as his Mom kept to herself. Plus, Roger had no other relatives.  
The last drawer he opened gave results!  
There was a roll of money tucked back behind some take out menus. Roger grabbed it and started to count it. Well.  
52 dollars.  
That was at least something.  
Roger also mused about going to the police and telling them what was going on. However he also knew that the police in the States were notoriously crooked, as his Mom and real Dad had said many times. What if they were in on the sex trade business?  
Roger knew he had only himself to count on and he pocketed the cash and the coins and ran out the door hearing it slam behind him as he ran down the long driveway.


End file.
